


To Protect is to Love

by sweaterbarnes



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: (though not really enemies but you know what I mean), 5+1, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Sharon Carter (Marvel), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-01 13:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterbarnes/pseuds/sweaterbarnes
Summary: Five times Natasha saved Sharon's life and one time the tables were turned.





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Sorry I've been gone for so long y'all but I'm back! I swear my other WIPs will eventually be updated but, for now, enjoy this one. This is my fic for the Captain America Reverse Big Bang in collaboration with [samthebirdbae AKA Karin](https://samthebirdbae.tumblr.com/) and her wonderful art which will be inserted in the fic. 
> 
> Also a big shout out to the babe [Nik](https://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) for being a great beta <3

~~~~~~

“This is Agent Sharon Carter; she’s a trainee and needs time in the field, so she’ll be joining you two in Spain. Agent Carter, these are agents Barton and Romanoff.”

The tall, blonde woman standing next to Fury was straight-backed and formal. She kept her feet exactly shoulder-width apart and her hands clasped behind her back as she observed Natasha and Clint. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a SHIELD training video. Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly as she took her in. The last time they’d had a perfect trainee tag along he’d snapped in the middle of a mission and tried to shoot her brains out. This one looked stable enough but she wasn’t willing to go on instinct alone, she’d made that mistake before. Clint, on the other hand, grinned widely at Agent Carter and stuck out a hand.

“Well, _we’re_ glad to have you along.” He subtly kicked Natasha in the ankle on ‘we’re.’

She didn’t move, just twitched her lips in a faux-smile and immediately dropped back to a stoic expression, the one she liked to use if she wanted someone to _know_ she didn’t like them. Agent Carter just cocked her head and shook Clint’s hand, looking Natasha right in the eye as she did, saying “I’m grateful for the opportunity and I’m looking forward to getting more experience.” She flashed them both a smile and settled back into her perfect stance, waiting.

Clint cleared his throat and stomped on Natasha’s foot in clear view of both Agent Carter and Fury. Natasha smiled, all teeth. “Like Barton said, happy to have you.”

~~~~~~

Agent Carter was absurdly neat. Natasha and Clint had claimed their sides of the hotel room and lay waste to them the second they hit the door.  Natasha’s was an organized mess. Everything had its place; those places were just strewn across the floor and the bed. Clint lay in the middle of tech, food wrappers, and a few weapons with his earbuds in, watching some inane puppy video. He’d taken a shining to Facebook once he’d realized how many animal videos he could consume in sequence.

Agent Carter sat cross-legged in the wide armchair near the door and was scribbling notes in her report as she watched the security camera feeds they had connected to the SHIELD-issued laptop. Her belongings were still packed in her single suitcase and she hadn’t left her post at the laptop in hours, studiously observing their target’s movements.  Natasha was fairly certain Carter had even written down the start time and duration of his latest visit to the restroom.

“Interesting?” Natasha asked, stretching out on her bed and smirking, making sure to drag it out as long as possible. She even wriggled her toes at the end of the stretch. She freely admitted to enjoying taunting trainees - it was one of life’s greatest joys.

Carter, going against all expectations, kept her eyes on the screen and hummed noncommittally. “That’s one word for it.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow in surprise at the sarcastic reaction, she’d been expecting her to start reciting her notes or something, not admit she was bored. “What’s Jacobs up to now, then?”

Carter glanced down at her notes and then back to the screen. “He’s currently eating chips. He started at 5:03 PM and I estimate he’ll finish the bag by 5:47 PM.”

“Any deals yet?”

“Nothing, not a single buyer.” She flipped through the pages of her notebook and muttered, “I thought he was supposed to be the head of the cartel; how much of a drug kingpin can you be if all you do is sit around and eat?”

Natasha started to laugh but caught herself, pursing her lips as she settled into the pillows. So maybe Carter had a sense of humor, didn’t mean Natasha had to like her.

~~~~~~

“When is he going to be done; it’s been hours!” Carter exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the middle of the hotel room. Her normally sleek ponytail was frizzy and in shambles, her clothes were wrinkled, and she was practically wearing a hole in the carpet. A hole SHIELD would have to pay for.

“Sit down.” Natasha pointed at the bed and Carter promptly sat, leaning her elbows on her knees and craning her neck to watch Clint on the security feed. He was rubbing elbows with a few higher-ups in the cartel, using promises of revolutionary experimental drugs to get his foot in the door. If all went well he’d have enough evidence when he returned to the hotel that they’d be able to arrest them and go home to familiar beds. Natasha pointed at the way Gerard, Jacobs’ right hand man, threw his arm around Clint’s shoulders and tossed his head in laughter, clearly heavily intoxicated. “Barton’ll be fine; this is what we do. Trust us.”

Carter grumbled but relented, falling back onto –Natasha’s- bed with a sigh. She rolled over and contorted herself until she looked like she was climbing the mattress and closed her eyes. A few minutes later the only sounds in the room were the tinny voices coming from the live feed of Clint’s wire, Sharon’s soft breaths, and a slight clicking noise. Wait, clicking? Natasha frowned and muted the laptop, listening. Click. She stood up and padded silently around the room, tracing the sound. It led her to directly under the bed. She lifted the sheet up and froze when she saw the bright red, digital numbers of a timer. A timer that was quickly counting down from thirty.

“Motherfucking shit,” she said under her breath before pulling a confused Sharon off the bed and dragging her to the door at a run.

“Agent Romanoff?” Carter asked, stumbling after her as she slipped the gun she’d grabbed from the side table into its holster.

“Bomb,” Natasha said, yanking open the door and stampeding down the hall. Screw being ‘under the radar.’ They took the stairs two at a time, thankfully not tripping over each other. They burst out the doors just as the side of the hotel exploded, showering the streets with rubble, ash, and releasing a wave of almost unbearable heat. They dropped to the ground and Natasha covered Sharon’s longer frame as best she could. They lay there for what felt like hours until the debris stopped falling. Finally, they moved away from each other and stood up, looking around at the destruction. Flames licked up the sides of the hotel, and there was no sign that their room had existed except for a few partially melted pipes. Sharon rubbed a hand down her face and let out a shaky breath.

“Are you hurt?” Natasha asked.

“No. I just…” she trailed off, motioning up at the burnt remnants of their room. “My notes are all gone, I’m going to have to start from scratch.”

Natasha didn’t hold back the disbelieving laugh this time as Sharon huffed and shook her head, more irritated than anything. Carter was something else. She patted her on the back as they trudged through the rubble in the direction of the nearest cafe.

“I’m pretty sure Fury will forgive you.”

~~~~~~


	2. Second

~~~~~~

“Russia in mid-winter…they threw you in the deep end, huh,” Natasha said, shouldering her pack as she walked towards the door of the plane.

“Actually, I requested this post.” Carter holstered her gun with a smirk and strode past Natasha, jumping down to ground piled with snow that threatened to spill into the tops of her combat boots.

Natasha followed her, jumping down and jogging over to where Carter was standing beside the rest of the STRIKE team, awaiting the orders to head to her post. Carter had thrown herself into her job as soon as she finished training and had worked her way up the ranks, making it to the STRIKE team in under a year - which was practically unheard of. This was their first mission together since the incident with the bomb and Natasha was curious. Her superiors were falling over themselves to get Carter for practically every mission, and it was getting a little irritating. Natasha didn’t like to think of herself as a jealous person, but hell if this wasn’t testing her limits. Rumlow cleared his throat and clapped, pulling Natasha out of her thoughts and getting everyone’s attention.

“We’re only here to stake out the base; do _not_ engage, and be back here by 0900 hours. Get in and get out. Don’t be late returning or we’re leaving without you.” Rumlow waved the team off and took his mission partner, disappearing into the forest.

Natasha and Sharon made their way through the thick woods towards the HYDRA base. The snow pulled at their feet, and they could barely see with what little moonlight reached them through the trees. Ahead of them, a spotlight traced the perimeter of the tree line, filtering through the tree trunks and becoming blinding as they got closer to the base. The light brushed their boots and they froze, listening for the sounds of alarms or guards shouting. When nothing happened they kept moving, this time staying a little further away and crouching lower to avoid being spotted. Eventually, they found a gap in the trees that allowed a reasonable view of the base and they ducked behind two trees. Carter pulled her signature small notebook out of her belt and started scribbling notes, looking over at the base every now and then.

 Natasha ignored the incessant scratching of Carter’s pen and frowned down at the base. It looked practically abandoned with only one guard standing by the west door. He was leaning against the wall, looking completely bored as he picked at something on his sleeve. She couldn’t see any other signs of life. How strange.

“I thought this one was more guarded…” She trailed off, thinking. Carter said nothing in response and Natasha clicked her fingers. “Carter, hey, pay attention.” She looked over and growled, “Carter!” as she flipped open her thigh holster and pulled out her gun, aiming right at the forehead of the HYDRA agent sneaking up behind Carter.

Carter stood stock still as the HYDRA agent pressed the barrel off his gun hard against her neck. He leaned in and narrowed his eyes at Natasha. “Gonna shoot me?”

“You have a gun aimed at my partner; I’m leaning towards ‘yes.’”

“You and your team are trespassing on HYDRA property. We,” he plucked Carter’s notebook out of her hand and dropped it on the forest floor, digging it into the snow with his boot until it was soaked and ripped beyond repair, “don’t like that.”

Sharon frowned down at her notebook, deliberating. She shifted her foot and bent her knees slightly, dropping her weight back subtly enough that only Natasha noticed.

 _I swear to God, Carter_ , Natasha thought, _I don’t have time for you to get revenge over a cheap notebook_.

 Carter tightened her jaw and, in a flash, ducked and drove her elbow into the HYDRA agent’s gut, shoving him back. He collapsed inward and reflexively squeezed the trigger of his gun, firing it at the forest floor with a bang that was guaranteed to bring even more unwanted attention. Carter straightened up and met his face with her knee as he doubled over, breaking his nose with a grotesque crunch. She pushed him away and scooped up the remains of her notebook, wrinkling her nose as mud filled with shreds of paper slid off the cover.  

Natasha slowly lowered her gun and stared disbelievingly at Carter.

“He could have shot you.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t. Instead he shot the leaves. _Loudly_.”

Carter’s eyes widened in realization and Natasha rubbed a hand across her face tiredly.

“We should probably start running,” she said, cocking her head towards the west where heavy footfalls were fast approaching.

Carter nodded, pulled out her own gun, and started off in a slightly different direction than the one they came from, hopefully throwing off the HYDRA agents. Natasha followed her, keeping her own gun cocked and throwing glances over her shoulder every ten feet. Carter was faster than her, her long legs giving her a significant advantage, and disappeared among the trees in a matter of minutes. Natasha growled and sped up, skidding to a halt when she caught up with Carter and saw her wrestling with a HYDRA agent…and losing. The agent dug Carter’s face into the dirt and kept it there, grinning as Carter fought to breathe. Natasha crouched behind a bush, took a steadying breath, aimed, and hit the agent in the back of her head dead center. When the agent toppled over, Carter was left limp on the ground, gulping in fresh air and spitting out clumps of dirt that had lodged themselves in her mouth. Natasha rushed forward, scooped Carter up by her armpits, and half-dragged, half-carried her as they made a break for the SHIELD plane. Shouting and sounds of fighting came from behind them and Natasha wasn’t waiting around to find out who was winning.

~~~~~~


	3. Third

 

~~~~~~

Carter adjusted the straps of her dress and fussed with her hair, frowning at herself in the mirror. She stuck a finger in her mouth and popped it back out, wiping the excess lipstick off her finger and onto a spare tissue. Natasha stood behind her, so close they were almost plastered against each other, and slipped the mic wire into the back of Carter’s tight, red dress. It slid down the slope of Carter’s back and Natasha dipped her fingers into the dress and pressed tape over the wire so it stuck to her smooth skin. Sharon twitched at the feel of the cold tape and Natasha’s fingers lingered, soothing the affected spot and warming up the tape.

“I can’t believe you forgot the wire,” Natasha muttered as she skated her fingers across Carter’s spine, looking for the perfect spot for the second piece of tape.

“You distracted me; it’s not my fault.” Carter huffed and fluffed her hair again.

“Alright, Carter.” Natasha patted her back and stepped away, eyeing her work and smiling when she couldn’t see any sign of the wire. “Quit your primping and let’s get a move on; Krishnov’s party starts in an hour and you need to get there five minutes early for appearances.”

“I think, at this point, you can call me Sharon.”

Natasha paused in her fiddling with her ear piece and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were all about professionalism?”

“You shot a HYDRA agent off me, Natasha. You can call me by my first name at this point.” Sharon raised an eyebrow right back.

Natasha hummed in agreement and returned to adjusting the equipment. “You do have a point…Sharon.”

Sharon grinned and turned back to the mirror. “I thought I did.”

~~~~~~

Natasha twirled the cord of her headset, flinching when it made the buds in her ear crackle and snap. SHIELD really needed to up their small tech budget. On the screen in front of her, Sharon practically floated through the crowd in the ballroom, smiling brightly when partygoers greeted her. She weaved her way up towards the front of the room where their target was sipping wine and scanning the rest of the room languidly. Krishnov spotted Sharon and looked her up and down with a predatory grin. Natasha grimaced.

“Be careful, Sharon.”

On screen, Sharon smoothed her dress down her hip and tapped twice, the code for ‘copy.’ Natasha settled back into her seat and crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as Krishnov stood up to greet Sharon and gripped her arm with both hands when she reached out to shake his.

“We are glad to have you, Miss Romanotta. I’ve heard much about you,” he said, patting her hand before releasing it.

“Well,” Sharon said, somewhat airily, “I’m honored that a man of your status has heard of me!”

Sharon had been assigned to pose as the daughter of an Italian diplomat. SHIELD had learned that Ivan Krishnov, a crucial and corrupt member of the Russian government, was hosting a celebration and jumped on it, sending in Sharon – who had the best espionage score of all the newer recruits – in to gather intel for their ten year investigation of Krishnov. She had agreed but requested Natasha come as her senior agent, citing how well they had worked together on past missions. Natasha had accepted after some thought (whatever Clint says is a lie, she most definitely did not have an email drafted saying she would agree to work with Sharon, honestly). Now, Natasha was regretting agreeing as she watched Krishnov have to drag his eyes away from Sharon’s chest.

“Will you sit with me? I would love to hear of how your father is faring.” Krishnov stepped back and waved a hand towards the large, overstuffed couch he’d been lounging on. Sharon nodded and stepped up to the couch, adjusting her dress so it fell just so over her legs. Krishnov sat next to her and stretched an arm along the back of the couch. Natasha squinted but she couldn’t see enough of his hand to see what it was doing. She could, however, see his forearm shifting as he, going by Sharon’s stiffness, stroked her bare upper back. Natasha twisted the headset cable hard, hoping desperately he wouldn’t go lower and feel the tape that connected the wire to Sharon’s back. Krishnov finally moved his arm away and stretched his fingers out, motioning for his personal waiter to bring wine. His fingers danced between the two glasses before finally landing on the one on the right. He handed it to Sharon with a rakish smile.

“I’m afraid I’m terribly indecisive; unfortunate trait for a politician, isn’t it?”

Sharon faked an amiable laugh, covering her mouth delicately. “Quite,” she said, raising her glass in thanks to the waiter. She went to set it down on the side table and Krishnov frowned.

“Aren’t you going to drink? You must be wanting to indulge after your trip.”

Sharon hid her hesitation by pretending to ponder his words before saying, “If you insist,” and taking a sip of her wine.

Natasha gritted her teeth and hissed, “Sharon what are you doing?! Don’t drink any more, you don’t know what he put in there.”

Sharon smoothed her dress and tapped again, all the while keeping her eyes locked with Krishnov’s and taking another sip. Krishnov patted her thigh and drank from his own glass. Natasha angrily noted that he did not accept a glass from the waiter, instead drinking from his original glass. Sharon clearly noticed that too when she cleared her throat and set down her glass.

“You know-” she leaned in conspiratorially-“my father speaks very highly of you, one might even go so far as to say he misses your company.”

“Well, we shall have to correct that soon; haven’t we? I’ll be sure to set up dinner soon.”

They kept talking for almost an hour and Natasha watched as Sharon started to fade. Her laughs were softer and she was leaning into him more, touching him every few minutes. She hadn’t taken another sip so she was clearly sober. Natasha could feel panic start to rise when she realized what was going on. That fucker had drugged her.

At the party, Sharon excused herself, “I’m afraid I must take a short break but I will hurry.”

“I will be right here,” Krishnov said, toasting her as she made her way towards the women’s restroom, expertly hiding the way her knees wobbled to everyone but Natasha, who was watching her like a hawk.

Natasha split the laptop screen, placing the ballroom on the right and the hallway in front of the restrooms on the left. Sharon made it to the bathroom, but only barely, practically collapsing on the door. She scrabbled at the handle but her fingers slipped and she fell the rest of the way, ending up a heap on the floor. A sheen of sweat coated her forehead and dripped onto her chest as she shook. In the ballroom, Krishnov lazily sipped a new glass of wine and waved at one of his guards who disappeared and reappeared by the bathrooms, hooking Sharon’s armpits and hauling her up, dragging her out of sight of the camera.

Natasha ground her jaw in anger as she watched Sharon’s heels slowly move offscreen. She disconnected the headset and grabbed her weapons. She activated the tracker that had been sewn into the hem of Sharon’s dress, waited for her phone to pinpoint her location and then dashed out the door.

She whipped her hair up into a tight bun as she ran, ducking into alleys and jumping fences to cut her time. The signal on her phone went out five minutes after she left and she cursed, pausing under the shadow to fix it. On the screen, a ‘no service’ alert flashed, mocking her as she stabbed at it with her finger. Fucking Stark phones, why couldn’t SHIELD just let her stick with her iPhone? She didn’t care how much Stark ranted at her about how obsolete they were; it was familiar and she liked it.

“Fuck.” She shoved the phone back in her pocket and kept going, silently reciting the address Sharon had been at right before the technology betrayed her as she went.

Eventually, she reached the side gate of Krishnov’s home. Along the top of the gate she spotted five security cameras dotting it accompanied by three security lasers that roamed the garden inside. She edged along until she reached the corner where it met the cold cement of the wall. Propping her feet in a loop of steel, she jumped up and scaled the gate, keeping herself pressed to the wall, just out of the view of the cameras. When she reached the top, she crawled over to the first camera and pulled out a bit of black tape, pressing it over the lens. She covered the rest and hopped over the gate, crouching into the impact of the landing. The lasers were easy to avoid and she easily made it over the garden to the door. She tested the handle and grinned when the door swung in. Inside her pocket, her phone buzzed and she pulled it out. ‘Arrived at location,’ it read. She groaned and shoved it back in, fucking Stark.

Muffled conversation floated up from the floor below her, and Natasha crouched, listening.

“I wasn’t aware, Miss Romanotta, that wires were appropriate ball attire,” Krishnov said.

From somewhere near him she heard Sharon chuckle. “I wasn’t aware, Mr. Krishnov, that stealing money from innocent Russian citizens was appropriate for diplomats.”

The sharp sound of flesh connecting with flesh followed and Natasha winced as Sharon grunted in pain. She crept over to the stairwell and cautiously tested the boards of the stairs. They creaked softly under the weight of her foot and she pulled it back, waiting to see if she’d been heard. Krishnov kept talking and Natasha slipped down the stairs, keeping to the edge and pressing herself against the wall. She peered around the corner of the stairwell and watched as Krishnov leaned in, stroked Sharon’s cheek, and pulled her hair so hard she lifted off the chair to give herself enough leverage that her head could follow her hair.

“You’re pretty; it’s really a shame.” He pulled more and she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Natasha pulled a knife out of her boot, aimed, and threw it. The knife neatly sheathed itself in Krishnov’s hand and he shouted, releasing Sharon’s hair and clutching at his hand and arm desperately. His guards grabbed their guns and ran up the stairs towards her. Natasha leapt at the first one and spun him around, shoving him into the two behind him, sending them all tumbling them down the stairs in a flurry of shouts and limbs. She pulled her gun out of its holster and jumped after them, driving the head of one of the guards into the floor when she landed. Ignoring the scream, she aimed at Krishnov and moved towards Sharon. He eyed her warily, involuntary tears running down his cheeks.

“SHIELD? What do Americans want with me?”

“We have a vested interest in keeping people safe. That means we pay attention when important people take money from said people,” Natasha said, undoing the knot on Sharon’s bonds with one hand and keeping the gun pointed at Krishnov with the other. Sharon was breathing hard but twisted her wrists to help loosen the rope, staring Krishnov down as she came free. Finally, the rope fell away and she bent down to untie her ankles, standing up and rolling her neck with a satisfied sigh.

“May I, Agent?” Sharon asked, looking him up and down with distaste, still somehow put together through mussed hair, running mascara, and an eye that was quickly swelling shut.

“Go ahead.”

Sharon smiled wickedly and strode forward, reaching Krishnov in three steps and slamming the point of her heel into his crotch. He squealed like a stuck pig and fell to the ground. Sharon left him there and started to walk up the stairs, still a little wobbly from whatever drugs they had slipped her. Natasha kept her gun trained on Krishnov and followed Sharon, kicking a guard who tried to grab at her ankle.

~~~~~~


	4. Fourth

~~~~~~

Aliens, Jesus fucking Christ. Natasha watched the screen in front of her with wide eyes as strange, silver machines flew over the city, firing down into the crowd of civilians trying to make it to safety. Beside her, Steve shook his head, tapping at the edge of the tablet.

“This is not what I signed up for.  Aliens are supposed to keep to movies and books, not our streets.”

 The plane stopped, hovering above the city, and Steve, Natasha, and the other SHIELD agents lined up by the hatch. Natasha shouldered her parachute and stepped out of the plane, keeping her grip on the straps of the pack tight. She’d truly never get used to the feeling of falling, of not having control. She crouched into the landing and quickly shed the pack, immediately jumping into the fight.

One of the creatures rushed her, jaws open wide and drool swinging from its sharp teeth. She sidestepped it and brought it down with a shot to the back of the head. Another creature came up behind her and tried to grab her but she whirled out of its grip and hit with her Widow’s Bites until it collapsed in a writhing mess. She methodically made her way down the street, hurrying civilians away from the chaos and pushing back against the onslaught of gray, reptilian creatures whose energy never seemed to wane. One of the ones in the air tossed something small into a nearby storefront and sped away, laughing. Natasha ran for the store but had to lunge behind a car when fire exploded from the building, showering glass and rubble and coating everything. Small fires sprouted up all around her; one even tried to start on her boot but she brushed it off and stood, looking around to see if anyone was injured. A sliver of blond hair showed through the ruins of the shop window along with a pale, bloody hand. Natasha climbed across the unstable ground towards it, heart racing. She stumbled back in shock when she cleared away some of the ash and uncovered Sharon. Her mouth was slack and her breathing came in small, weak bursts. Blood crawled down her face from a gash in her scalp and too many scratches to count that littered her face. Her blond hair was thick with ash and small shards of glass.

“Sharon? Oh my god!” Natasha shoved away the mess enough that she could pull Sharon out. She hooked her under her armpits, planted her feet, and tugged, grunting quietly under Sharon’s near-dead weight. Finally, she managed to get her out and quickly pulled her into the nearest alley, tucking her into the corner on top of some soggy cardboard and trash bags.

“I know this isn’t ideal but there’s no way I can get you to the hospital and SHIELD can’t get medics out here yet. Just hold on, okay?”

Sharon groaned, rolling her head along the dirty brick behind her. She furrowed her eyebrows, inhaled, and winced.

“Why do I hurt so badly?” She slurred, gingerly running her fingers along her scalp.

“The store exploded and you got caught in the mess.”

Sharon sighed as heavily as she could and then let out a laugh, immediately followed by a cry of pain. She fell forward and Natasha caught her, rubbing her back soothingly.

“What’s so funny?” Natasha asked, confused.

“Of course this happened on my day off.”

Behind them another explosion went off and shook the ground under their feet. Natasha leaned Sharon back against the wall.

“I have to go; Steve and the others are on their own out there.” She frowned when Sharon weakly waved her off.

“Don’t apologize; I’ll be here when you get back,” Sharon said with a wry smile.

Natasha nodded but hesitated, hands hovering over her uncertainly. A huge, protective part of her was screaming at the idea of leaving Sharon here like this, injured and vulnerable.

“If I have to kick you, I will. _Go_ ,” Sharon insisted, glaring at her.

“Fine, fine,” Natasha said, squeezing her knee reassuringly before sprinting out of the alley and joining the fight.   

~~~~~~

This was disgusting, Natasha thought as she trudged through the alien carcasses. Her suit was covered with blood and unidentified filth that occasionally ran down her hand and dripped onto the ground. Something trickled down her head and down her neck and she shivered, aggressively wiping it away and futilely trying to wipe it off on her pants which just made her hand dirtier. Her side was full of sharp, stabbing pains where she’d been thrown into a wall, and she was almost positive her shoulder was dislocated. Her vision was a little fuzzy and her head was pounding, making her sway slightly as she walked.

Beside her, Steve was in the same situation except most of the blood was his. Long scrapes covered his arms and his side was a mess of deep lacerations and torn, stained fabric. Despite his wounds, he’d been the most successful that day, killing an almost uncountable number of the creatures.

They were almost to the plane when Natasha stopped dead.

“Shit. Shitshitshit. Steve, we have to go back.”

“What? Natasha, no, we need to get home .”

“I forgot something, something important.”

“Natasha, we’re both injured! We have to go.”

Natasha shook her head and turned around, running back down the street. “Go back then! I’ll meet you there!” she called back behind her.

Steve groaned in frustration and followed her.

~~~~~~

“Come on, let’s go,” Natasha grunted, pulling Sharon up from her spot and propping her up onto her uninjured shoulder. She slowly started to make her way down the alley, apologizing when Sharon was jostled and hissed in pain.

Steve caught up to her just as they reached the mouth of the alley.

“What the hell-Sharon?” He rushed forward to help hold her up and shot Natasha and confused glance over the top of Sharon’s head. “I thought this was your day off,” he muttered and she snorted.

“That’s what _I_ said.”

They continued like that, Natasha and Steve supporting Sharon who mostly let herself be dragged down the street. She’d tried to walk with them, but they’d quickly discovered that her leg was broken when she put weight on it and collapsed, nearly bringing Natasha and Steve down with her. Steve texted Tony when they were a block away from the plane and, when they reached the plane, medics were ready with a stretcher. They transferred Sharon from their shoulders to the stretcher and the medics took over from there, swarming around the stretcher and taking it into the plane. Two medics stayed behind, trying to convince Steve and Natasha to get checked out. Steve refused, citing that he was already healing. Natasha tried to refuse but her argument proved irrelevant when she wavered and fainted in the middle of her sentence. The last thing she heard was Steve calling her name in a panic.

She woke to the bright, harsh lights of the Tower’s personal hospital and the sound of methodical beeping. Sharon was laid out asleep in a bed beside her, a huge white bandage covering her head and smaller bandages on a few of the bigger cuts on her face. A thick cast encased her leg and multiple tubes protruded from her arm. Natasha, on the other hand, was woozy from the pain medication being pumped into her right arm through an IV.  Her vision was somewhat blurry and her head still throbbed, but the pain in her ribs had subsided. A sling cradled her left arm, supporting her shoulder that had been popped back into place.

Steve was passed out in the chair in between their beds and Sharon’s light snores filled the air. Smiling at the image they made, Natasha settled back into her pillows, closing her eyes again for some well-deserved rest.

~~~~~~


	5. Fifth

~~~~~~

Natasha hated being idle, hated it with every fiber of her being. She appreciated getting the chance to see Paris again but she was beyond bored. SHIELD collapsed and suddenly the market for expert assassins became very niche and her job requests were few and far between. It was, by definition, a vacation, but it wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d asked Fury for some time off a few weeks before everything imploded.  

She slowly stirred her coffee and watched the French civilians stroll by, chattering and swinging shopping bags in time with their steps. Her croissant sat untouched next to her cup and she poked at it listlessly. She visited this coffee shop every day, and every day her order was the same, and every day she couldn’t wait to polish it off. However, today it didn’t appeal. Something was off, felt different, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Frowning, she took a sip of her barely warm coffee and continued to stare out the window.

The bell above the door rang, and heels clicked as someone new entered the shop. More clicks as the woman placed her order and sat to wait for it to be filled.

“Carter?” the barista called, catching Natasha’s attention.

She looked over and watched as Sharon thanked the barista with a blinding smile and took a sip, closing her eyes happily. When she opened her eyes she spotted Natasha and smiled wider, walking over and sitting down across from her.

“What are you doing here, Nat?”

“Nat?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What? Natasha’s a mouthful.”

“You sound like Clint…Now, what are _you_ doing here? I thought you had that CIA job lined up,” Natasha asked, propping her chin on her hand.

“They’ve filled that position;  I’m on their list for the next one that opens up, though.” She took another drink and licked her lips after with a pleased hum.

Natasha shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat when she felt her cheeks flush at the movement.

“What’s wrong?” Sharon asked.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” She slid the croissant into the center of the table and turned the plate so one end faced Sharon and the other faced her. “Have some; don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing it.”

Sharon chuckled and tore the croissant in half, leaving the bigger piece for Natasha. Natasha took hers and they ate together, occasionally pausing to talk, share tidbits of what they’d been doing since the mess in D.C.

The bell above the door rang again, and again Natasha ignored it, this time distracted by how Sharon tucked her hair behind her ear and the way it promptly slipped back out and fell across her face. A gruff voice at the counter began to order. Suddenly, a familiar click sounded, and both Natasha and Sharon’s heads snapped towards the sound to see a man aiming a gun at the shaking barista. All the other customers were either frozen in their seats or had fled.

“The money. Now!” he shouted, stepping forward.

Sobbing, the barista fumbled at the register, pulling out bills as fast as she could.

“Hurry up!” He prodded her with the muzzle of the gun, leaning over the counter.

Sharon silently set down her croissant and slipped off her heels. She stood up and padded up behind the man, reaching into her jacket for her own gun. The woman next to Natasha whimpered and Natasha covered her mouth, but it was too late. The man turned to the sound and saw Sharon just as she was about to hit him upside the head with the butt of the gun. He sneered and whipped his gun around but Sharon ducked and kicked his knee in, making him grunt in pain and fall to the ground. Sharon jumped back and aimed her gun at him.

“Stay down.” She pressed a foot to his chest to pin him where he was. Behind her, a man sitting at a table stood up and clubbed Sharon over the head in one swift motion, too fast for Natasha to stop him. Sharon spun in place and fell, hitting her head on a cabinet on her way down. The man she’d had pinned stood up clumsily and climbed over the counter, shoving the barista out of the way so he could rip open the register.

“We’ve already wasted too much time thanks to the blonde bitch, Claude. The cops have to be just around the corner.”

The man who’d knocked Sharon out circled the room, at the same time keeping a gun cocked and aimed. “Well hurry up then, asshole. That car isn’t going to buy itself.” He kept pacing and, whenever his back was turned, Natasha inched her knives out of her stockings and into her lap.

Finally, when he turned away from her for the third time, she flicked one of the knives and hit him in the hand. He screamed and dropped the gun, turning to face her as Natasha hit him in the side with another. She stood and slashed him across the face then kicked him in the knee, just as Sharon had done with the other one, and relished in how he crumpled. God, she’d missed this, the fighting. The man behind the counter shot at her but missed her by inches. She rolled her eyes and threw another knife at him, hitting his temple with the handle and sighing as he fell. Amateurs.

Sharon groaned from where she lay prone on the ground and Natasha kneeled next to her, patting her gently on the cheek. Sharon’s eyes fluttered open halfway and Natasha huffed, stroking her hair away from her face. “You’re out of practice, Sharon.”

 Sharon muttered something under her breath and struggled to get up, batting Natasha’s helping hands out of the way.

 “What was that?”

Sharon cleared her throat and said, louder, “I’m not the only one who’s rusty.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I took them both out! Efficiently, I might add.”

“With _three_ knives,” Sharon said with a smirk.

Natasha nudged her shoulder in mock offense and laughed. “How dare you, the third one was for fun and you know it.”

Sharon smiled and tried to stand up but wobbled dangerously. Natasha slid into place under her arm and walked with her out the door. As they walked, Sharon whispered, “I bet I could have done it with one.”

~~~~~~


	6. Bonus Pt. 1

~~~~~~

“What do you mean I can’t go?” Natasha growled, slamming her hands down on the desk in front of Fury. The newspaper that was spread out on the wood crinkled as she curled her fingers towards her palm in frustration, warping the images of destruction and crying families that were plastered across the front page. On the television behind her a newscaster solemnly reported on the devastation in Russia; screen split between her face and blurry phone camera recordings of enormous, lurking creatures stomping through the streets and leaving burned through asphalt, destroyed buildings, and corpses in their tracks.

“Natasha, SHIELD is not allowed to operate in Russia, especially not our superheroes. You absolutely fall under that category and, as such, I can’t let you leave. I don’t want to be the one responsible for you getting thrown in prison.” He pressed his fingers against his temples and sighed heavily. Finally, he looked up at her with a scowl on his face. “Between you and me, I would love to let you go. Hell, I would love to go _with_ you. Those people are suffering and we should, by all rights, be able to help them. However,” He leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, “America’s not on great terms with Russia right now; the balance is fragile. If the president refused to send aid, we, as a government organization, aren’t allowed to get involved. _At all_.”

“But, if I went on my own, without claiming that SHIELD sent me. Surely I could still go? They need help, Nick.”

“You are still part of SHIELD in the eyes of the world, even when you act independently. Your actions, both foreign and domestic, directly reflect on us. You signed the Accords, you read the fine print, you knew there was a chance this would happen.”

“Fine, fine.” Natasha took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders, and stalked out of the room, ignoring Fury’s call after her:

“Please don’t do anything I have to clean up!”

~~~~~~

“Natasha?” Sharon asked, standing in the doorway of Natasha’s bedroom. The bags of food she was holding rustled as she moved inside and set them on the desk.

“Do you know where I put that red lipstick I’ve been wearing recently? I can’t find it anywhere.” Natasha rummaged around in her half-full suitcase and then moved to her desk, rifling through papers and makeup in search for it.

“It’s in your bathroom…where are you going?”

Natasha paused then started towards the bathroom. “Nowhere important, nothing you need to know about.”

Sharon stopped her with a hand on her breastbone and narrowed eyes. “Do not do what I think you’re about to do.”

“What do you think I’m about to do?”

“I’ve seen the news, Nat, and I know you. You won’t just sit by and let this happen. I also know that SHIELD agents are not allowed to travel to Russia during crises. I expect this suicidal heroic shit from Steve, not you.” She pushed her back and away from the bathroom until Natasha was sitting on the bed. “Don’t do something stupid, please.”

Natasha bit her lip and looked up at Sharon. “I already have my ticket, Sharon. I leave in an hour.”

~~~~~~

Moscow airport was chaos. It was just far enough away from where the monsters were roaming that it was still open to the public, and everyone that could was fighting to get a spot on the fastest plane out of Russia. She had to fight her way through the crowds of shouting people just to get past the gate and into the main part of the airport. As she approached the sliding doors that seemed to be frozen in the ‘open’ position, the noise level doubled. Outside, cars were parked haphazardly in the road and across medians, horns blaring. She grit her teeth, forced her way out into the cold air, and set off for St. Petersburg.

The only thing she’d brought with her was a small backpack which contained everything she’d need, including her weapons. Her contacts at the D.C. airport agreed to let her pass through with her weapons once she’d filled them in on what was happening. She’d found that befriending rule breakers in important places proved to be very beneficial. A mile out from town, close enough to hear the distant roaring and crashes, her heartbeat started to pick up with each step. The adrenaline rush and anger that had been fueling her started to fade as the situation dawned on her. She was walking into a highly dangerous system on her own with only the Russian military to assist. No Hulk, no Steve, no Tony, no Thor, not even Clint with his stupidly useful explosive arrows to have her back. She was a threat, sure, but something like this –creatures that left acid in their footprints and could knock down buildings with a swipe – might turn out to be too much. She swallowed the nerves down and steeled herself, she could do this.

Cars with frazzled, wide-eyed drivers sped past her on their way out of the city. Trails of smoke and the sound of screaming followed close after them as she approached. Looking in from the edge of the city she couldn’t see anything but large shapes moving slowly away from the center of the city where there were significant gaps in the volume of buildings. She took out her weapons and stashed the backpack where she’d be able to find it again before moving in and joining the fight.

The creatures were even more enormous in person and they smelled like nuclear waste. She choked back vomit at the thick stench and kept going, examining the creatures more closely. It looked like sludge was dripping off their bodies, burning through whatever it touched. They had no visible features, just deep holes where the eyes and mouth should be. Their actions had no rhyme or reason; they were just wandering and knocking into everything in their way without discrimination.

Soldiers surrounded them, shooting and shouting for them to stand down. Tanks fired into their torsos but the ammunition melted on contact. She fiddled with her guns and knives, suddenly feeling very inadequate.

Shit.

~~~~~~

Natasha slumped against the wall next to the dead body of a soldier, breathing hard. They’d brought down one of the creatures but the other had slipped out of their hands, quite literally disappearing. The one they’d killed had made the mistake of stepping on a fire hydrant and opening up a rush of water that immediately shot through its leg. Everyone watched in shock as it stumbled and roared in pain but kept moving. After a moment’s hesitation, there was a scramble for hoses and buckets of water, some even took water bottles out of their purses and chucked the contents at the creature, not caring that they’d just given it the equivalent of a papercut.

Finally, with the combined effort of almost fifty full buckets of water, ten hoses from random storefronts, and a few more water bottles from well-meaning civilians, they forced the creature into submission and drowned it. 

Her phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out, wincing when she saw Sharon’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hel-”

“You can’t stay where you are, not in the city,” Sharon said, cutting her off.

“What?” Natasha asked, already standing up

“SHIELD knows what’s going on and they’re coming to get you; the Russian government is also fully aware of your location. You’ve broken so many rules it’s going to take an archaeological dig to pull you out of the shit you’ve gotten yourself into. For the love of god, get out of there.”

“Copy.” Natasha was about to hang up when she saw a helicopter that definitely wasn’t from a news network hovering over the city. Snipers hung out of the sides, scanning the streets. “Shit.”

“Are they there already? Nat, run.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Natasha said as she sprinted through side streets, trying to avoid the extremely visible main roads. The helicopter flew closer, and she heard boots hit the ground behind her. “This really isn’t good.” She pumped her legs harder, speeding up, but soon enough strong hands grabbed shoulders and hauled her back. Her phone fell out of her hand as she was wrestled into handcuffs so she didn’t hear Sharon swearing and ranting as she was dragged away.

~~~~~~


	7. Bonus Pt.2

~~~~~~

“I feel justified in saying ‘I told you so’,” Fury said, leaning against the wall outside Natasha’s cell.

Natasha snorted, stretching out on the narrow cot that was anchored to the far wall, ignoring the way the thin fabric of her uniform scratched against her skin. “And I feel justified in reminding you that there was no way you could’ve stopped me.”

“I should never have let you meet Steve; I knew it wasn’t going to end well.”

“You know well and good I was like this before Steve,” Natasha said with a smirk.

“I do.”

“Any progress on getting me out of here?” Natasha asked, glancing over at him hopefully.

“No. You made a lot of people a lot unhappy.”

“Don’t I know it,” Natasha said, motioning to the cell around her. “They’re not keen on letting me forget it either.”

Fury huffed a laugh and pushed off the wall, walking away. “Keep that attitude up. I’ll be back when I get any updates.”

“Copy that.” Natasha watched him retreat, taking her small hope of getting out of there legally with him.

~~~~~~

Fury didn’t come back.

Steve visited as regularly as he could but, eventually, he faded out of the picture. On his last visit, he’d hinted heavily that he was breaking orders coming to see her. She supposed he’d been caught.

Sharon didn’t visit once and Natasha tried to ignore how much that hurt.

~~~~~~

“Really? Federal prison? This is far too lowbrow for you, Princess,” Tony said with a grimace as he looked around.

“Thought I’d take a look at how the other half lives,” Natasha joked.

“Never had the urge, myself. How are they treating you? I pushed for catering but for some reason it didn’t take.”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted. In truth she hadn’t seen the sun or breathed fresh air since they’d stuck her in the cell almost a year ago. The lights were turned off earlier and earlier and, at one point, she’d been in the dark for two days, the only light the guard’s flashlight when he patrolled. There was only food once a day and it was the bare minimum. Her hair was limp and greasy against her scalp, she could count every rib, and her muscles had lost almost all definition. It felt like they’d been waiting for her to slip up and grabbed their chance.

“I can see that,” he said, looking her up and down with a sad look in his eye.

Natasha rubbed the back of her neck, uncomfortable at the attention. “Any chance you could do more than cater?” she asked, desperately looking to change the subject.

“I can ask around.”

~~~~~~

That was it, she was officially over it. She prided herself on her ability to be patient but after a year plus some that patience had run its course. Time to leave.

She’d learned that the guards never varied from their set schedule. When Neal’s shift ended at eleven, he was replaced by Pratchett who made his rounds past her cell at midnight. Pratchett was replaced by Todd at five, and Patrick took Todd’s place at noon. Pratchett was by far her best chance. He had a weak spot for redheads and she knew he eyed her up whenever he thought she was asleep. He was also an idiot, keeping his keys on a ring on his belt and always forgetting his gun at his desk. Newbies.

She had it all planned out: convince him to come close enough that she could slam his head against the bars, steal his keys, and get out. If she had to injure a few other security guards, fine. At least she’d be out. She settled in the uncomfortable, standard issue desk chair and pretended to pick at her nails, watching Pratchett circle once, twice, three times. She let him relax, even smiled at him once and had to swallow her revulsion at the smarmy leer he returned it with. No part of her felt guilty about what she was about to do.

After his fourth round, she switched to standing, looping her arms around the bars, taking the stereotypical “come hither,” stance the prostitutes took in those cheesy westerns. He came around the corner and stuttered to a halt, staring at her in shock. She cocked her head at him, feigning innocence and batting her eyes at him. He started to approach but a hand shot out from behind him, grabbed his collar, and twisted until he was choking and bug-eyed. Sharon stepped out from the hall and jabbed her taser into his neck, keeping it there and lowering him to the floor. She stepped over his twitching, unconscious body and unclipped the keys from the belt. She strolled over to Natasha’s cell, calm as you like, and unlocked the door, swinging it open.

Natasha stepped out and looked from her to Pratchett and back with a frown. “Was the taser necessary?”

“No.”

“Was it fun?” she asked knowingly.

“…Yes.”

“I’ve trained you well,” Natasha said with a grin.

Sharon smiled back and nodded to an adjacent stairwell. “We’d better get going. I only needed to knock out a few guards but they’ll be up and sounding the alarm in-”

An aggressive shriek of a warning sounded through the building followed by high pitched beeping.

“In now. Let’s go.” Sharon grabbed Natasha’s hand and they took off down the stairs, racing the bootfalls that echoed through the stairwell. They burst through the double doors at the bottom of the stairs, running out into bright, midday light that burned Natasha’s eyes, and Sharon shoved Natasha into the backseat of a car that sat idling. She slid in after her and slammed the door shut, kicking the seat of the driver in the process.

“Ow! Jesus shit, Carter, don’t abuse the escape driver,” Tony complained as he pulled out of the backlot with a screech of tires.

“Tony?!”

“Don’t wear it out.”

“What the hell are you doing? I thought you were all gung-ho about the Accords,” Natasha pointed back at the prison that was quickly disappearing behind them. “That’s what we agreed to when we signed.”

“I was for it until they started fucking with people who didn’t deserve it. Besides,” he added, “you asked if I could do something other than cater!”

Natasha stared at the back of his head incredulously. “I meant lawyers, not a prison break.”

“Should have specified then.”

~~~~~~

“I’m confused,” Natasha announced. She plopped down onto the couch in the safe house across from Sharon, pressing a towel around her hair and squeezing out the excess water.

“About why you spend so long drying your hair? So are we all. Just blow dry it like a normal human being, Nat.”

“That’s not what I meant you asshole.” She kicked her thigh and squeezed her hair in a slower, more exaggerated fashion just to mess with her.

“Alright fine, I’ll bite. What’s the problem?”

“You didn’t visit me once, Sharon. A year and two months and not even a phone call or letter. Then, out of nowhere, you just show up, kick ass, and break me out of prison. I want to be grateful, I do…”

“…But you felt abandoned.”

Natasha tried to deny it but she realized that yes, that was exactly it. The woman who’d become her closest friend seemed to have forgotten her but she’d been too proud to admit that it hurt. “All I want is an explanation. Something other than, ‘I don’t care about you,’ would be favorable,” she said quietly, staring intently at her hair. Even to her own ears she sounded small and sad.

“Oh god, Nat, look at me.” Sharon nudged her chin up and forced her to look her in the eye. “I wanted to visit you so badly. I literally pounced on Steve and Tony when they came back from visiting you so I could get every detail about how you were doing.  I was right there with the lawyers who were working on your case. The amount of coffee I consumed during the first few months is quite frankly unbelievable…” Her eyes narrowed, and she moved a damp lock of hair away from Natasha’s face. “Then the news started to talk about other things, it was getting harder and harder to get your case heard, and people were starting to give up. We lost five lawyers in the span of a month because they simply couldn’t afford to keep working on something that wasn’t going anywhere when they had angry, anxious clients waiting for them.”

“Why didn’t you come then? Sounds like your schedule opened up,” Natasha said, not even trying to hide the bitterness that edged into her voice.

“It did, which gave me time to plan how I was going to get you out. Once I started that, I knew I couldn’t come visit you; I didn’t want to give the impression I was scoping out the premises. Tony gave me the blueprints and reported on your conditions and the guards after he visited.” She smiled at her hopefully. “I promise I would have come if I could have but I swear I didn’t forget about you or stop caring.”

“Absolutely didn’t forget you,” Tony called from the kitchen through a mouthful of apple. “She wouldn’t _stop_ thinking about you. I can recount many a drunken rant on her part let me tell you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Sharon muttered shooting a glare in his direction. She turned back to Natasha.  “Does that help any? I don’t care if you’re mad at me – well, no, I completely care, ignore that – but I do care that you don’t think I don’t. How could you think I forgot you? I bought dinner every other night just so I could see you, I even made dinner a few times! And you know I can’t cook!” she exclaimed, genuinely flustered. “You have been there for me since day one, even when you hated me, and there was no way I wasn’t going to reciprocate. Especially not for someone I care about as much as I do you.” She finished with a huff and sat back, crossing her arms as if to defend from whatever Natasha would say back.

Natasha was silent and staring blankly, processing the rush of information and emotions. Sharon had been working to save her, Sharon cared. She didn’t know what to do with this information and the flush of heat it tried to bring to her cheeks or the way her stomach twisted. Natasha was silent for so long that Sharon bit her lip, looked away, and nodded as she started to get up, clearly accepting that Natasha was still angry. Natasha hastily grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Wait, just…hold on.”

Sharon slowly sat back down, furrowing her brows in confusion. Natasha released her hand, swallowed awkwardly, and closed the distance between them, running a shaky hand up her neck and resting her fingers at the nape of her neck. Odd that this was the time she was nervous, that hadn’t happened before.

“Nat wha-” Her words were cut off by Natasha pressing her mouth against hers insistently. Sharon made a surprised noise but closed her eyes, melted into the warm pressure, and returned it, bringing a hand up to cup Natasha’s cheek. Natasha stroked the back of her neck then pulled back slightly. Sharon tried to follow, eyes half-open and hand lingering on her cheek.

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered before ducking back in for another kiss.

~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, everyone!<3 Comments, kudos, and feedback are always welcome!
> 
> Stalk me on [Tumblr](http://wolfbarnes.tumblr.com/).


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